


I Made A Promise

by Triple_deity



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cutesy, Fluff and Angst, Journalism, Literature, Love Poems, M/M, Poetry, Prom, Sweet, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:49:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_deity/pseuds/Triple_deity
Summary: South Park High is hosting it's annual prom in five days. While the others seem to be doing just fine handling their first prom, Kyle is taking on an existential crisis due to who he is in love with. While also having a poem due on Friday, Kyle decides to merge his problems with his classwork and tries to create something meaningful.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Token Black/Nichole Daniels
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	I Made A Promise

April 15th  
Journal entry 1,  
I get it. I know, I know. It's the most cliche thing ever. On the list of all cliche things, love is number one. Number two is owning a diary. However I read online that journaling is supposed to ease anxiety and mental conflict, so here I am scribbling poor penmanship into a wide-ruled, 95¢, black and white journal that resembles the ones from first grade. As for number one on that list, .. well I'd rather not be cheesy and confess some kind of life long crush or fascination for someone so opposite of myself. So I won't. ..but I think I already did. It started today… 

Purple.  
Why is that such a weird color? Of course, his mind immediately thinks to Alice Walker's novel. God, did he love that fucking book. A black lesbian woman oppressed heavily while raped and beaten, struggling to find herself - it's the best story plot and the dialogue is purely profound whilst being primitive and simplistic. Yet this color, this banner on the wall, it's fucking atrocious against the cream colored concrete walls and speckled floor. What the fuck was the committee thinking? He sighs as he recalls that he should have been on that committee but was sick the day they were forming the group. 

"Is that sign really necessary?" A voice speaks lowly beside him, as if only to him. He looks over his left shoulder to his friend. "They could have just announced it."

"Right?" He agrees. 

"The fuck?! Are you coming or what?!" A very offensive although signature voice rings about the corridor. "Stan! Kyle!" 

Stan released a smothered sigh as he rests his hand on Kyle's shoulder. 

"C'mon dude." He says, stepping away as the redhead looks at the banner a bit more. He reads the words carefully. 

Prom Saturday April 20th 8 - 11 pm. 

"Kyle!"

Finally he steps away. 

"It's the stupidest thing, I swear to God!" Cartman insists, declaring many wondrous claims about this so called "thing outside." However Kyle isn't listening. He's pondering over what he just read. Does he have to go? It's kind of a duty isn't it? To be a junior and go to prom? 

"It's great! You just won't believe it." Cartman goes on as they begin to reach the back doors of the high school. 

"Funny, I probably won’t." Stan mumbles as Ken cracks a smile at him. The two seem to share doubtful looks as Kyle is spacing out. 

"Yeah? Well look!" The bigger teen snaps as he opens the door. Of course there's only light at first, as the outside is all white from foggy sky to snow covered ground. It's a bit blinding until they can focus their eyes on the huge ass sign in front of the student parking lot. 

"No way." Stan scoffs. 

"Well, we know he's getting laid tonight." Ken remarks as he steps outside for a closer look. 

"Seriously?" Kyle whispers, now feeling a sharp pain in his chest as he walks forward with his friends.

There's a 8 x 11 foot poster board sign that's duct taped to the metal railing of the steps, the ones that lead all the way from the parking lot to the courtyard of the school. It's right in front of Bebe's (and everyone else's) car. On it reads "Prom?" But with tons of glitter glue, fake rose petals, and some balloons around it. Of course Clyde got on the committee and knew when they would be announcing the dates. He officially just one upped every single junior and senior who planned to ask a date to the prom.

"Isn't it stupid?" Cartman asks, so impressed by their peer's desperate attempts to woo his own girlfriend. 

"Yeah. There's no way I'm gonna be able to impress Wendy like that now." Stan says, realizing that he absolutely has to come up with a major pop-the-question plan, and it has to be better than that. Which isn't hard, but it's just the size of it and the immediate timing that is so hard to replicate. The bar has been set.

The three other juniors converse while Kyle is simply frozen by stress and confusion. He can't stop looking at the sign. He feels like he could be sick. He decides to just walk away without saying a word.

He makes it halfway back to the opening of the hallway when he hears footsteps behind him. He makes sure to unlock his jaw and relax his facial muscles. He doesn't want anyone to know how he feels. 

"Kyle!" Stan calls, quickening his pace just a bit. The redhead stops, easing everything. He turns around, a normal expression that one might give when confronted. 

"Yeah?"

"You aight?" He asks as Ken and Cartman come near. 

"Yeah, just wasn't really impressed. It's kind of pathetic." He comments, arousing Cartman's original statements and feelings on the matter. 

"See! I told you!" He laughs, somehow suggesting that if Kyle said it, then it was right. Although that seemed to be the only thing they would ever agree on considering their past. 

"Yeah." Stan simply agrees as well, figuring they should just go back to walking around the school during lunch, even though they weren't supposed to, but upperclassmen do what they want. 

They walk around for another fifteen minutes then disperse when the bell rings for the next class.

Time ticks by and Kyle can't seem to focus. He's staring at the book on his desk for half an hour until he is called on.

"Huh?" He picks up his head, looking at his English teacher. That gains a few immature giggles from the class. She makes that amused, yet unamused face. 

"I said, we're working on our poetry. You can choose any format you want, but it needs to use the literacy terms we went over, should be longer than a haiku and it has to be done by the end of the week. We’ll read them aloud on Friday." Kyle simply nods, looking away again. He glances to his right, eyes catching another pair. Blue and brown. 

Cartman makes a face at him. 

'What's wrong with you?' Cartman mouths silently from across a column of desks. Kyle only shrugs then looks back down to his book.  
He doesn't want to talk about it.

He decides to finally open his book and glance over the excerpts. He finds her. Emily Dickinson. He loved her too. Her ideologies on the color white meaning passion instead of innocence was riveting. Maybe Kyle just had a thing for misunderstood women and colors. He reads through some of her work before class ends. He then recognizes that he didn't pay attention at all to his class or work. He feels a little guilty. The feeling quickly subsides as Cartman makes his way to him. 

"We have yearbook today right?" He asks. For some reason, it's hard for him to look at him right. 

"What?" He asks, not really paying attention as he collects his things. 

"Jesus, are you listening at all today? You need to get a hearing test. I said do we have yearbook today?" 

"We have yearbook every other day, why wouldn't we today?" Kyle asks back, pulling his book bag to his shoulder as he stands up from the desk. He tries to step away and add space between them, not wanting to be close to any human being, especially Eric. 

"Because they don't have the new cameras yet. Therefore I can't do much." Cartman explains, walking with him to the hallway. 

"I don't know, maybe. Does it matter?" He asks, feeling frustrated as they push past people, in pursuit of their next class. 

"Uh, yeah? There's a big difference between me going home at 3 and finishing Orange Is The New Black by 10, and me leaving at 4:30 and not finishing it because my mom wants to watch some HBO bullshit." 

"Can't you watch Netflix on your laptop?" 

"No, it's broken."

"What about your tablet?" 

"Broken."

"How did you break them."

"Does it matter?" Cartman shoots back the same question Kyle asks, this time with a tone. Kyle stops walking and turns around to look at him. He takes a big breath through his nose and gives him his attention. 

"I don't know, Fatass. You'll just have to ask after class ends. I'm not a damn mind reader, okay? I don't know what's up, but even if they don't have the new cameras, I have to stay, so I'm not really bothered by your predicament." He says very bluntly, then with a false chipper tone asks, "Can I help you with anything else?" 

Cartman sends a disgusted look, full of judgement. 

"Big help you are, Jew." He insults before walking off to his math class, leaving Kyle in a moving sea of school students. The redhead rolls his eyes a bit before going in the same direction to history.

While in class, he can't pay attention. He's never been so bothered. He feels absolute trepidation. He keeps trying to focus but fails horribly. He doesn't want to think and he's pushing it back. Randomly his pocket vibrates. While he would usually ignore it, he answers just to distract himself. He types in his password and reads the text from 'Fatass'. 

"I asked Wendy, they have the new cameras and now I'm stuck with you. I hope you're happy." 

Kyle looks so fucking lost and annoyed by the text. He can't help but feel a bubble of anger pop in his brain. He texts back. 

"What the fuck did I have to do with it? I told you I didn't know if the cameras were in yet. And what do you mean you're stuck here with me? If you don't fucking like me then go home. Or better yet I will. God forbid if I fucking exist." He hits send, too dizzy to even comprehend what he just typed. He just feels anger and resentment in this moment. He begins to think about it, just festering too quickly until he receives a reply. 

"Goddamn. I was just fucking with you. What is wrong with you?" 

He pockets his phone and sits there. Suddenly his leg is bouncing. Thoughts are becoming intrusive, weaving their way through his brain and speaking loudly. Little glimpses of memories and fabricated fantasies flash behind his eyes. They present a mental picture so clear and yet fuzzy that it's surreal. Little pricks of intense touch come across his body in odd places; his chest, fingertips, collar bone, thigh. Stupid little thoughts. He can't blockade his thoughts much longer. 

The second that the dismissal bell rings, Kyle is hurrying to his English teacher's classroom. He manages to get in the door but quickly feels embarrassed. He steps much more slowly and softly as he creeps nearer to the front of the room. His eyes are on the students leaving, he refuses to speak until they are all gone. Finally he turns his head to her, seeing that she is already looking back with a helpful smile. 

"Uh.. hey." He says blankly.

"Hi." She smiles back, wondering what he needs. 

"Um.." He pauses. "Do you have any of those notebooks from the beginning of the semester left?" 

"Oh." She says, quickly looking for one in her deep bottom desk drawer. There's a bit of rummaging before he is handed a very simple journal. 

"Thanks." He says very rushed before scurrying away outside. He decides to not go to the yearbook club meeting, nor wait around for the bus. He decides to just walk home. Which he really needed in order to clear his head a bit. 

Eventually he made his way home. He decides to sit down on the front steps instead of going inside. He wants to sit in the open space before being surrounded by walls again. He takes his book bag off and opens it by the zipper. After roaming his hand blindly in the bag, he grasps a ball point pen. He pulls it out, opens the notebook cover and begins writing. 

… I have always been careful. I have always managed to push it deep down and shut it up. However, I'm having a fucking existential crisis and I think that's worthy of a physically expressive breakdown. Let's be honest, I am not much to look at and while I don't typically care about that or events like this, the entire school is now a societal war zone. There's something about teenagers in fresh clothes that make them vicious. Starting today, the pressure is on. Everyone will be asking who they're taking, and anyone who says no is interrogated. I know for a fact that I will not be an exception. I just can't stomach it. To add on to it… I just want to be with-

He stops writing and takes a deep breath. He thinks that text over and over in his mind. He messed up. He acted emotionally and it was noticeable. Cartman surely would be flooding his text messages soon once he sees that the redhead isn’t going to show up at all. That would be uncomfortable to experience. 

Kyle looks back down to his writing and decides to drag his pen across the surface of the paper once more. He wants to try and write a decent poem for his teacher. He finds it in him and he comes rather easily.

I grind my teeth when I sleep  
I wanna grind until the tooth chips  
Grind until I can't speak and sputter blood in the bathroom sink, I don't care  
I wanna grind my teeth

I wanna find my spine  
Pull an Oedipus and pluck my eyes from my mind  
Sew my mouth shut for the 100th time  
I don't care  
I just wanna be blind

I fight my feelings in the night  
I wanna be his forsaken plight  
Love and be his only sight  
I don’t care  
I wanna be right

I wanna taste the belt  
Lick her lips until I melt  
Be the best I’ve ever felt  
I don’t care  
I just wanna feel the welt

Kyle eases his hand back and examines the poem. He smiles as his bisexuality is peeking beyond his usual calm facade. He puts his pen back into his book bag, along with his new notebook and zips it up. It seems a new routine has been established. He thinks again. The only thing on his mind again is that stupid purple banner.


End file.
